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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23828566">Not Alone</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/becki/pseuds/becki'>becki</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Cuddles, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, One-Shot, Sleepy Cuddles, Whump, i just want them caring and being there for each other ok is that too much to ask, platonic cuddles, this is completely self-indulgent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:07:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,648</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23828566</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/becki/pseuds/becki</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hank has the occasional nightmare. He’s gotten used to them over time. But this one is different - a new scene, a new concept, and completely unexpected.</p><p>But at least Connor’s there for him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hank Anderson &amp; Connor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>105</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Not Alone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey! I’m back with another D:BH fic, and I decided to try a one-shot since I’m gonna need a little break from longfics for now after writing my last fic haha. This was really fun to write, and I definitely want to write more one-shots in the future :) I have lotssss of ideas.</p><p>Anyway, this story is pretty much self-indulgent fluff with some angst about my fav duo. I hope you all enjoy &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They look the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s absolutely terrifying how similar they are to Hank. It’s almost as if Cyberlife had done copy and paste on his Connor - same curious eyes full of fear, same cycling LED with its warning yellow hue, same perfect stature and stance, same brown freckles that dot their faces in various places as if hand painted there. Hank’s eyes dance between them, looking for something, </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything </span>
  </em>
  <span>to show the difference between them. Maybe a little bit more fear in one’s expression. Maybe a little nervous fidgeting from the other. Just...</span>
  <em>
    <span>anything </span>
  </em>
  <span>to tell them apart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But there’s nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s already asked two questions, and they both answered them perfectly. What’s there to do? There’s nothing it seems, and his mind bounces with ideas only for nothing good to appear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until a perfect question pops into his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My son, what’s his name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank looks at the Connor to his left as those words pass through his lips. He watches as this Connor’s eyebrows raise upwards, and the corners of his lips tug slightly in a frown. Hank can practically see the gears whirring in his mind, the panic swimming within his eyes, and all Hank can think is </span>
  <em>
    <span>this isn’t him, this isn’t him, he doesn't know the answer.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gabriel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank doesn’t hesitate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gun rings out and echoes off the walls. Shock floods this Connor’s features as he glances towards the bullet wound on his chest where blue blood squirts out in a clean shot. All light drains from those eyes as his knees slam against the cold floor, and he slacks to the side as his body quickly shuts down. His once crimson LED cycles one last time before shutting off completely, now taking on blank muted grey.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wrong choice, Lieutenant!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank’s blood goes cold in his veins. He glances up towards the other Connor, only to find his expression smug. Panic shoots through him as he raises his gun towards this Connor’s head because </span>
  <em>
    <span>what the fuck, what the fuck did I do, what the fuck did I do.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>This Connor doesn't even flinch. He continues calmly, “I’ve accomplished my mission.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank watches with wide eyes as he approaches him, steps cool and collected. They’re not even filled with an ounce of fear despite the gun pointed right between his eyes, able to destroy him with the flick of the trigger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can kill me if you want,” he says with each step. “Doesn’t matter anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pauses in front of Hank and his shuddering gun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Another Connor will take my place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank watches in awe as this Connor, this </span>
  <em>
    <span>fake </span>
  </em>
  <span>Connor</span>
  <em>
    <span>, </span>
  </em>
  <span>calmly walks away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my God,” Hank says under his shaking breath. The stuffy room is spinning, fear is whirring within him, and all he can manage to say more is, “What have I done?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks to Connor, </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>Connor, slumped on his knees and head hanging. Unmoving. Dead. A sickening feeling swims in Hank’s guts as he stares into those lifeless eyes - eyes that were once so full of light, so full of hope for a future. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was...He was finally free. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank had hoped for him to be deviant for so long. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>Connor could do it. And he did. He broke whatever programming held him back from being who he truly was. But now, all Hank can do is stare deep into those eyes, the room whirling around him and guilt flooding his blood in painful gushes.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I killed him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I killed him, he had a chance of life.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What have I done, what the fuck have I done-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank’s eyes pop open with a gasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>~~~</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <span>The room he’s in is dark, and Hank’s eyes dart around like ricocheting bullets to orient himself. But he can’t find anything, anything to let him know he’s okay, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Connor’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> okay, and all that continues to race in his mind is </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve killed him, I’ve killed him, I’ve killed Connor, what the fuck have I done-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Until a familiar blue light catches the corner of his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glances down beside him, and only then does everything settle in his mind. He’s in his room, laying on his bed. He’s not at the Cyberlife tower. He’s home. He’s where he should be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Connor’s asleep right next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank takes a deep gulp of cold air and unclenches his shaky fists, releasing the blanket that he held in tight grips in his hand, and lets his tense muscles relax back into his mattress. And still sitting upright and looking down at his friend laying beside him, he watches Connor’s LED as it pulses a brilliant calm blue. Not yellow, not red, not blank.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s okay.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank simply watches Connor for a few moments as his thumping heart rate steadies. He’s never seen Connor before while he’s sleeping, or in standby, or whatever he’s so determined on calling it, even once they started sharing a room a month ago after he felt bad for making Connor sleep on the couch for so long. Hank had always woken up after Connor, only to find him returning from a morning walk with Sumo or making breakfast for Hank even though he always said he didn’t have to do that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And all Hank notices as he stares at him is that Connor looks so...peaceful sleeping. It’s a complete change from when he’s awake - always fidgeting with his damn coin, always moving around, always talking about something or another. Hank has grown over the last several months to really enjoy his company, even with his bustling personality; but, it still could get a little much at times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But when he’s asleep, he’s the complete opposite of all that. His body rests on his left side facing Hank and is curled slightly, and the moonlight streaming from the window pours just enough light in to see his soft features in the dark bedroom. His eyes are shut, butterfly lashes resting overtop his cheeks, and his chest moves up and down with each stimulated breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank wants to wake him up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows it’s unfair. Connor looks so calm next to him, and who knows, maybe there’s some rule that he's never heard of before about waking androids in the middle of their sleeping cycles or standby mode things and that it’s bad for them. Hell if he knows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But what he does know is he wants to wake him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Really </span>
  </em>
  <span>badly. He wants to see those mocha eyes for himself, hear his stupid goofy voice, just see him awake and like his usual self to know that everything’s okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because as Hank lays back flat on top of the mattress, he knows he can’t go back to sleep. Not now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not alone like this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And before Hank can convince himself to stop, his mouth is opening, and words begin to pour through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Con?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His words are barely above a whisper, but they still feel needlessly loud in the otherwise silent room. Hank watches Connor’s LED flicker yellow for a split second as his eyebrows twitch together, almost as if the nickname woke up something within his mind but not enough to fully rouse him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Connor?” Hank tries again with a little more volume. He knows he should stop, just let the damn android sleep, but he </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>That finally wakes him. Connor’s eyebrows furrow a little before his eyes pop open. They’re a little dazed before they finally focus on Hank, and they quickly sharpen into something more concerned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hank?” he says, his voice a little over a whisper. “Is something wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And only then does Hank realize his mistake. Of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course </span>
  </em>
  <span>Connor will ask what’s wrong. Of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’ll want to talk about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that’s the last thing Hank wants right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With heat creeping onto his cheeks, he flops onto his back. He can still feel Connor’s gaze burning into him, probably analyzing him or some shit, but all Hank does is pretend to ignore it by staring bullets into the wall as if the lone cobweb in the top right corner is particularly interesting. It isn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor shifts up in bed into a sitting position, and Hank watches out of the corner of his eyes as the heavy blanket slides off Connor, revealing Connor in Hank’s old Knights of the Black Death t-shirt that he lets Connor wear. He’s taken a real liking to it - not because of the logo or the band of course, but probably just because it’s big and soft. It practically swallows Connor, almost sliding off his one shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hank, I detect an elevated heart rate,” Connor says softly as he stares down at Hank. He finally breaks his gaze with the wall and turns his head to look at Connor, and their eyes meet. And try as he might, Hank can’t break their long gaze as he stares at him and those big puppy dog eyes of his, swimming with concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Of course he was fucking scanning me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s nothing,” Hank says quickly. “Really. I’m sorry for waking you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor doesn’t break. “Hank, seriously. You can talk to me. Did something happen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s silence for a few moments. And all they do is stare at each other, the streaming moonlight from outside casting just enough light for their features and expressions to be visible in this otherwise dark room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Hank heaves his body back into an upright sitting position. The heavy blanket slides off him, and the cold air-conditioned room sets chills across his exposed arms peeking out of his t-shirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs, and then brings his head up to face Connor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if I shot you instead?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor does a double take, his eyebrows furrowing together and jaw dropping. “What? Hank, what’re you-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Back at the Cyberlife tower. Remember? Back during the android revolution a while ago,” Hank continues. His voice begins to waver, try as he might to steady it, and he can’t help but cringe at himself at how</span>
  <em>
    <span> weak </span>
  </em>
  <span>he sounds. “When that other bastard impersonated you. What if...What if I got it wrong? What if I shot </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>instead and made a mistake?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor’s features soften. Hank can practically see the fearful memory flashing before Connor’s eyes as his LED flickers yellow, an unsteady light amidst the dark room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you didn’t,” Connor finally says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But what if I did?” Hank cries back out. His fingers are tightening around the blanket bunched at his waist, his heart rate is beginning to pound again, and he knows he should just drop it and move on, but he </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Connor, what if…” he continues. His lips begin to quiver, and he hates it. He hates the way Connor is staring at him with so much worry, hates the way his body is betraying him by crumbling his wall of emotions. But he just can’t stop it. “What if you weren’t here right now? What if I lost you, all those days ago, and I was alone? Again, just like I was before?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sadness melts into Connor’s features. His mocha eyes become swollen with heartache as he looks upon Hank, and when he finally answers, his voice is soft, a tender whisper in the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you didn’t. I’m okay, Hank.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank doesn't answer to that. Instead, he flops back in the bed and pulls Connor tight to his chest, wrapping his arms around the android’s lithe build in the process. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just...Stay here. Please,” Hank says, words cracking and unsteady. He knows what he’s saying isn’t making any sense because </span>
  <em>
    <span>of course</span>
  </em>
  <span> Connor wouldn’t leave. But his mind is pounding, the wall of hidden emotions he’s built up for so long is crumbling to the ground, and all he wants is the comfort of the person he cares about most in his arms. Hot tears are collecting in the corners of his eyes, and his muscles are shaking and tensing as he tries to hold the tears back, but it’s a losing battle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor tenses on top of Hank at first as if stunned at the sudden embrace, but he quickly relaxes. Hank can see the hue of his LED as it flickers from yellow back into a gentle blue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m right here, Hank,” he whispers. His soothing words are beyond gentle, laced with reassurance. “I’m not going anywhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And all Hank can remember as they lay there like that is flashes of his life before. Nights full of drunkenness, flooding an empty hollowness in his heart as he drowned his feelings of loss in a damn whiskey bottle. Nights when the only ray of light was the thought of another bottle, another evening full of dangerous games and the blissful oblivion that alcohol brought him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But here Connor is, the closest thing to family held tight in his arms. Hank can hear his mechanical heart - or thirium pump, as Connor always corrected him - as it softly pounds against his own chest, gentle and reassuring with each quiet breath Connor takes. Hank’s never paid it attention, that thumping of his thirium pump, but he’s never realized how calming it is, how </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive </span>
  </em>
  <span>it sounds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His son may be gone now, and no one could ever replace him. Ever. But still, here Connor is, alive and safe in his arms, always being there for Hank every step of the way. Always supporting him, always watching over him, always being a shoulder to lean on or someone to talk to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was given someone who truly cares for him, and that’s more than Hank could’ve ever asked for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there the tears fall. Hot and silent streams down his cheeks like a raging damn finally burst free. He can’t remember the last time he’s cried - it must’ve been years ago - and in all honesty, he doesn't know </span>
  <em>
    <span>why </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’s really crying. But it feels good, like a pent-up burden lifting off his back, so he lets the tears fall and stops holding back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank doesn’t know if Connor can hear his staggered breaths, or the way he sniffles every few seconds, but at least his head on Hank’s chest is facing away from him and can’t directly see his tear-stricken face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the tears finally subside somewhat, Hank looks down at Connor. And only then does he notice the slight curl to Connor’s tufts of hair when it’s disheveled. It’s always straight and perfect given how nit-picky the android is over it, but here it is, a slight mess of waves and curls. Hank runs a gentle hand through them and tousles his hair, feeling just as strangely soft it is. It’s something he’s never noticed before - sure, he’s roughed up Connor’s hair before in a playful manner, but he’s never done it long enough to really </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel </span>
  </em>
  <span>it. But here he is, tousling his hair and realizing just how strangely soft it is. Connor melts into the touch, sighing a little under his breath, and Hank can’t help the little fond smile that appears on his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few minutes, Hank notices the repeated thump of Connor thirium pump slow down into a low thud. Hank glances down, only to find Connor with his eyes fallen shut, back asleep again. He doesn't blame him - it’s the middle of the night, after all. Hank’s eyelids start to feel heavy as well, and he lets his body fully relax then into the plush mattress, ready to fall back asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He runs one more gentle sweep through Connor’s hair and then lets one hand rest against the nape of Connor’s neck and the other on his back. Hank lets his eyes close, finally feeling ready enough to go back to sleep. And he knows Connor’s not going to hear him, but he wants to whisper one more thing before he turns in for the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for being here, Con.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it &lt;3</p><p>Also, come scream with me about D:BH on tumblr! I’m beckkii there :) come say hi!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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